Morning True
by Melissa Ordesky
Summary: On April Fool’s Day, Yamazaki and Chiharu send a fake newsletter depicting the death of their head cheerleader, Sakura. Syaoran, reading it in H.K., believes it... and changes. SS
1. Prologue

**~~Morning True~~**

On April Fool's Day, Yamazaki and Chiharu send a fake newsletter depicting the death of their head cheerleader, Sakura. Syaoran, reading it in H.K., believes it... and changes. S+S

A Card Captor Sakura S+S fic by _Melissa Ordesky_.

~~~~

**Prologue - 30th March**

"Takashi?"

"Hm?"

"You're a genius."

From his position at the laptop, Yamazaki twisted to face his beaming girlfriend. Depositing a small warm kiss on her cheek, he turned back to his masterpiece.

"Sakura will go nuts when she sees this," Chiharu predicted, snuggling closer to Yamazaki on the stool and admired the professional look of the prank. "April Fool's Day a stupid idea, she said. This'll kill her!"

"_April 1st. Tragedy struck Tomoeda High yesterday afternoon when the school lost its brightest asset of the school, its head cheerleader, Kinomoto Sakura. _

_"Sakura, 16, was shopping with her best friend Daidouji Tomoyo when the disaster struck. A women, unidentified, thought to be from Kyoto, attempted suicide off Tokyo Tower. She survived, as she collided with Sakura, who died from the injuries sustained in the impact._

_"Her father and brother are said to be distraught. "It's all my fault," Daidouji sobbed. "If we hadn't passed by the tower, Sakura would still be alive. Ironic that she should endure so much to be killed by the selfishness of one stupid individual."_

_"Amen to that, says this paper. Stupidity is the cause of most major accidents and tragedies. School will be closed on Friday 3rd April so that any student wishing to attend Sakura' funeral may be excused_." Yamazaki finished reading it, and smirked.

"It would be really cool if we got the day off from this article," Chiharu said, watching as Yamazaki cut and pasted articles from the real newsletter due out later in the week into the fake one, and printed off a copy.

"It _sooo_ would," Yamazaki agreed. "Mustn't dream. I'll get this over to Iori in reprographics. He'll get it copied and sent out to all the usual addresses."

Chiharu giggled. "We'll teach her for saying April Fool's Day is one of the most idiotic Western traditions."

"Knowing her, she'll believe it herself," Yamazaki said, putting the copy into a plastic folder.

"And be scared of herself!"

"What do you mean?"

Chiharu looked at Yamazaki densely. "She's scared of ghosts, don't you remember what happened when Naoko used a snippet from _Scream_ in her presentation on Western films?"

Yamazaki buried his head in Chiharu's jumper to muffle his snorts of laughter. "H-h-h-h-hehehe," he laughed. "I don't think the fish have either!"

"Should it go out to everyone?" Chiharu asked, looking fondly down at the boy sniggering into her shoulder. "I mean, Sakura's dad might actually flip, and we'd save postage if we missed out our ex-students, you know, Hiirigizawa, Meilin, Li..."

"Um, I'll remember to tell Iori to miss those obvious ones out," Yamazaki promised.

Chiharu grinned in anticipation of the joke two days hence.

They didn't know the problem.

The problem was twofold. One - jokes are not universally funny, and two - promises... 

...were made to be broken.

**~TO BE CONTINUED~**


	2. Chapter 1: The Newsletter

**~~Morning True~~**

On April Fool's Day, Yamazaki and Chiharu send a fake newsletter depicting the death of their head cheerleader, Sakura. Syaoran, reading it in H.K., believes it... and changes. S+S

A Card Captor Sakura S+S fic by _Melissa Ordesky_.

**A big thank you to:**

_lil-cb, __Bloodlust Night, Stephanie_ and _Jaina (Satan's Advocate.)_

~~~~

**Chapter 1: The Newsletter**

**(**April 1st, 1999. 8:24 am.**)**

"SAKURA!"

**"HOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"**

It was a scene that had been witnessed in the Kinomoto household one thousand, two hundred and forty eight times. A pretty auburn-haired girl with startlingly green eyes, sitting upright with a frenetic yell, staring at the alarm clock with consternation.

"I'm late again!"

The girl fell out of bed with a graceless thump, and an amused giggle filled the air. What looked like a yellow stuffed animal with wings flew up into the air, bobbing slightly up and down in amusement.

"Wake up!" The stuffed animal said brightly.

"I _am_ awake," the girl flung back stiffly as she picked herself up and stomped around the room. A regretful expression flittered across her face, and she turned to the flying yellow creature. "I'm sorry, Kero, it's just, I'm _laaaaaate_."

Kero bobbed up and down in the air for a second longer. "You're forgiven, Sakura."

Sakura bowed in thanks, before turning on her heel and running down the corridor to the bathroom. Turning the shower on, Sakura brushed her teeth while hopping around the bathroom, waiting for the water to heat up.

"Craaaaap," she said to herself, pushing her hair into a shower cap to stop it from getting wet and flinging her pyjamas on the floor and stepping under the too-hot water. Cleaning herself frantically, Sakura quickly rinsed the soap off and hopped out of the shower. Turning it off, she pulled a towel around herself and threw the shower cap off. Catching a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, her skin flushed into a rosy colour that for once wasn't due to a letter or phone call from a certain boy in Hong Kong.

Running barefoot back down the hall, leaving wet footprints, Sakura ran into her room and grabbed Kero by the ear, shutting him in the cupboard. Drying herself with one hand while rooting our her uniform, Sakura flung her clothes onto the bed and started getting dressed. Running her brush furiously through her hair, she quickly checked everything was in her bag, especially the maths homework she'd been struggling over last night, checked she had the cards, and let Kero out while she struggled into her socks.

"Have a fun day at high school," Kero wheezed as Sakura made it out of the room in remarkable time, considering. The small flying bear looked around the room, and then spotted the calculator sitting on Sakura's desk. He sighed heavily. "Five... four... three... two... one..." Kero murmured, rolling his eyes as Sakura burst back into the room to grab her calculator.

"Byeeeeeeeeee, Kero-chan," she said quickly again, running back out.

Sakura ran down the stairs two at a time, knocking her elbow against the wall as she went. Running into the kitchen, she grabbed an apple and her lunch as she sailed past, grinning at her father and brother. "Good morning, have a nice day, thanks for the food, byeeeeeeee," she yelled, heading for the door.

"But Sakura-" her dad started, waving his hands around, but Sakura had already gone out of the door. He shared a glance with a serious looking young adult with a shock of midnight hair. You wouldn't have known he was Sakura's brother until you looked closely at them if they stood side by side. They had the same cheekbones and manner of standing. Otherwise, Kinomoto Touya did not really resemble his younger sister.

Touya opened his mouth to speak, and ended up falling silent instead. Their dad just shrugged, glancing at the newsletter in his hand in amusement.

-----

From in the distance, Sakura could hear the first bell which meant it was time to head to the form room.

"_Crap!_" she breathed, trying to pick up her pace even more. Her skates helped her progress, but it was hard getting up the steps with them on. Side-stepping and holding her arms out to keep her balance, Sakura made it to the top of the steps and pushed off. Speeding down the slope to the main gate, Sakura put out her hand to catch the rungs of the gate and slow her down. She still crashed into it, adding another bruise or two to the one she'd given herself earlier in her rush down the stairs at home. Quickly kicking off her skates, she yanked her shoes on and ran to the building. The second bell, indicating the start of school, rang.

Hanging her head, Sakura decided that five minutes late was just as bad as one minute late, and chose to walk the rest of the way, taking the time to put her skates carefully into her locker on the way. As she padded carefully along the hallway, being careful not to disturb any of the other classes. She turned to go up the long stairs to her form room, and almost bumped into Mori Motoki from her form class.

Motoki looked at her for a long second, his skin turning paler as he did. Sakura stared back. Motoki screamed.

**"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! IT'S A GHOST! IT'S A GHOST!"**

Sakura sweatdropped and stepped backwards, holding our her hands defensively. "Wh-wh-where?" She looked over her shoulder nervously. "I don't _like_ ghosts!"

"They said you were _dead!_" Motoki blubbered at her nervously.

Sakura frowned at him, and then the truth slammed home to her. "Mori-kun," she said slowly. "What's the date?"

Motoki continued blubbering. "You're dead and you want to know what _date _it is? Oh dear goddesses, my mother was right, I shouldn't have eaten that apple pie before I went to bed! I'm still having a nightmare!"

"What. Date."

"April the..." Motoki stopped. His mouth dropped open. "First. The day the principal decided we should follow the tradition of April Fool's Day."

Sakura nodded slowly. "Yeap."

"So you're not dead?" Motoki asked nervously.

"Not unless dead people can eat apples," Sakura said, showing the nervous boy the core in her right hand.

"Thank god," Motoki breathed, taking the apple core. Then he realised what he had in his hands, grimaced, and chucked it into the nearest bin, wiping his hands on his trousers. "Come on. I'm supposed to be getting the register. This ought to be quite fun, seeing their reactions."

Sakura hid a smile behind her hand, following the teenager as he got the correct register and they jogged quickly up the stairs.

"Ready?" Motoki asked, turning to her. Sakura nodded. Motoki opened the door and let her step through first.

**"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! IT'S A GHOST!!!!!!! IT'S A GHOST!!!!"**

Sakura tried very hard not to laugh, and she wasn't the only one. In the corner, Yamazaki, Chiharu, Iori and Tomoyo, who were all in on the joke, started laughing uproariously. Fukasaka-sensei caught on quickly, but still looked pale, and Naoko, who had absolutely freaked out, blushed a bright crimson.

Chiharu got out of her seat, walked to the front of the room and bowed. "April Fools!" she intoned with a grin like a death mask.

-----

"I can't _believe_ you guys did that." It was lunch time, and Sakura, Tomoyo, Naoko, Rika, Yamazaki, Iori, Motoki and Chiharu had claimed one of the outside picnic benches as their own. Sakura picked gingerly at her _bento_, and scowled prettily. "People have been freaking out all morning. None as good as _yours, _though," she added with a mischievous glance at Motoki, who blushed.

"At least the retraction will be sent out now," Chiharu said, a regretful note in her voice. "Pity April Fool's only lasts until midday."

"The people we posted it to won't get the retraction until tomorrow," Iori said, resting her hands on the table.

"Huh?" Chiharu sat up straight. "I asked you to tell Iori not to send it out to anyone who gets the school newsletter by post!" She yelled at Yamazaki.

"I did-" Yamazaki began.

"LIES! ALL LIES!" Chiharu clamped her arms over her chest. "I don't know _how_ I put up with you, Takashi."

"'Cause he apologises so well?" Rika teased, referring to the week before when he'd apologised to Chiharu with a _lot _of helium balloons and a singing quartet.

This time it was Yamazaki's turn to blush.

-----

It's a perfectly true if unspoken rule of life that just before life socks you one in the gut, life seems utterly and completely peachy.

Syaoran had that feeling, of life being swell. Who cares if someone put clingfilm over the toilet? Or a whoopee cushion under every seat you sit on? Or set your alarm clock to three am? Trivial pranks like that don't affect you when you're on the top of the wheel.

That's usually the time when someone hits you with that stinger.

Look at Li Syaoran now. He has completely no idea of what waits for him in the post today. He's sitting comfortably on one of the white sofas in the sitting room in Li Mansion. He's quite content because he's practised his meditating and martial art exercises for an hour and his body is ready for whatever challenges the day may throw his way. He's eaten his breakfast, plain yoghurt and mandarin segments, and drunk two glasses of water. It's half an hour before he is due to leave for school with his childhood friend and cousin, Rei Meilin, and he's done all his homework. He even spent half an hour revising the night before for a test with Makito-sensei, who he has privately named Machiavelli for the tortures he inflicts on them in history.

He has his arms folded, but not in a threatening way, just loosely rested on his legs as he sits, leaning forward slightly. His hair - the colour of chocolate and burnt umber - is dishevelled, but not for lack of trying to tidy it up. His eyes are the colour of clear warm honey, and if they seem a little far away it's probably because of what - or rather who - he is thinking of. 

He does this every morning, sits in this way, recalls fondly the contents of the last letter or telephone call with Kinomoto Sakura. Kinomoto Sakura, the Card Mistress. Kinomoto Sakura, the head cheerleader of Readington High. Kinomoto Sakura, the girl who stole his heart.

Kinomoto Sakura, the girl who he will soon believe is dead.

Look. Watch his posture tense suddenly as we reach three minutes after eight. The door bell rings a second afterwards. From this reaction, we know he is used to this ritual, and that Li Syaoran is nothing but punctual. His sisters tease him that they can set their watches by him. They're probably right at the moment, but will not be for much longer. Soon Li Syaoran's life will change from bright happy mornings with the world in technicolour and Dolby surround sound to a world of muted greys and pain.

He stands now, walking casually to the door of the room. An elderly man walks through, dressed in the colours of a penguin, severe black and white. He hands Li Syaoran a pile of envelopes and turns away. He looks stiff and formal, but you can tell he cares for the boy by the gentle way he hands Syaoran the envelopes.

Syaoran thanks the man and returns to the sofa. The envelopes are sorted in order of size. They don't come that way. It is another sign that the elderly man knows and cares for him, because he knows how he likes his post. He takes the biggest envelope first. That's the way he's always opened his post, because, as everyone knows, the best things can be found in the littlest packages. He smiles a little at the Tomoeda postmark. Tomoeda holds his one reason for living, after all.

He opens the envelope gently, keeping the flap of the envelope intact and not ripping it like Meilin does. He pulls out the paper, a piece of A3 paper folded in half. "Readington High News" says the legend at the top of the page, in a lovely cursive scrawl of Japanese. He looks down, and Kinomoto Sakura smiles out at him from the page. It is a lovely picture of her. Syaoran basks under the gaze of the picture for a long minute, then turns to the text to see what they have written about his cherry blossom.

Are you still watching him? 

Watch his shoulders stay stiff, his eyes dart up and down the page from right to left. Watch his eyes cross, then uncross. Watch him walk quite steadily over to the large bookcase in the corner and pull out a Japanese dictionary. Watch his hands shake as he turns page after page, slowly and painfully translating the article word by word until there can be no mistake.

Then watch as Li Syaoran's world falls down.

-----

**To be continued in Chapter 2: The Tears...**


	3. Chapter 2: The Tears

**~~Morning True~~**

On April Fool's Day, Yamazaki and Chiharu send a fake newsletter depicting the death of their head cheerleader, Sakura. Syaoran, reading it in H.K., believes it... and changes. S+S

A Card Captor Sakura S+S fic by _Melissa Ordesky_.

**A big thank you to:**

_tambourine, **lil-cb, just a fan**, Avelyn Lauren (and Avelyn's brother) _and _Collide._

~~~~

**Chapter 2: The Tears**

**(**April 9th, 1999. 11:43 am.**)**

"Good morning, Syaoran."

Li Yelan, head of the household, and always supremely presented, even if it was just to her own family, nodded her head at her only son, who was stood stiffly in the sitting room.

"Good morning, mother," he intoned politely, bowing as she glided towards him, as if on ice.

"I wish you'd cheer up, Syaoran. Life can not be this arduous and boring for you."

"Yes, ma'am," Syaoran responded, staring straight forwards.

Yelan sighed. "Dismissed."

Syaoran bowed again, and left the room as fast as he could. Yelan turned to the girl in the room, not so much of a girl anymore. Meilin was a very slender seventeen, all signs of baby fat gone. Her ebony hair was pulled tightly into a long braid, and she wore red to complement her eyes.

"Good morning, ma'am," Meilin said, inclining her head.

Yelan smiled warmly back.

"Been around Syaoran too long, I see," Yelan said, as Meilin grinned a little. "I am-" She paused, trying to phrase it delicately. "_Worried _about him. I granted him time off school because I had thought he was ill. Listless, not sleeping, not eating, but that is clearly not the case. I told him yesterday he was to go back to school tomorrow, and he replied the same as he has been doing for the last eight days. I do not understand."

Meilin shrugged. "I don't know anything." She bit her lip, wondering if she should say what she had noticed of Syaoran's stiff behaviour, and decided she should. "I have seen him carry around a piece of paper, the same one for the last eight days. Perhaps it holds some evidence why he is behaving like this."

"Perhaps," Yelan conceded. "I think a request to see this piece of paper would come better from you." Meilin bowed at the compliment. "The ancestors know he would not respond to me. Even when he turns his face in my direction, I feel as if he is looking _through _me, to somewhere far beyond this place."

"I'll find out what's wrong, ma'am," Meilin promised.

"You're dismissed, child," Yelan said. Meilin departed the room as quickly as Syaoran had. Yelan watched the young adult run, the same worry she felt in her heart echoed in the concerned expression on Meilin's face, and felt trust flow easily to her niece to complete this mission.

-----

"Syaoran. Wait up!"

Meilin skidded down the front path, kicking up a cloud of dust as she ran after Syaoran. Syaoran turned, his face blank and expression neutral.

"You going for a walk, hey?" Meilin forced herself to act casually as she reached where Syaoran was. He started walking again, and she padded gently alongside him. "Good. I think I need the exercise. I'm out of breath simply running after you!"

It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Meilin wasn't comfortable making small talk.

"Syaoran."

Syaoran stopped, and looked at Meilin. Instead of looking through her, as her Aunt had aptly described not five minutes ago, Meilin gulped as the full force of Syaoran's pain bored right into her in his gaze. She swallowed, and stepped forwards, resting her hands lightly on his elbows. He did not move to push her off, but he flinched, as if the contact hurt him.

"Syaoran," Meilin said again, stressing his name a little more forcefully. "You've been a complete zombie all week. I need to know why!"

Syaoran moved his glance away and Meilin felt sharply relieved. That gaze. If she had been a city, and looks could actually kill, she'd have been blasted more than flat. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking harshly uncomfortable. His hand dropped into his pocket, then out, then back in, then out. It looked as if he was undergoing some painful internal struggle, as a storm played itself out in the tempestuous depth of his eyes.

Meilin used her most sympathetic glance on Syaoran.

A cloud passed over his face, as if firming his decision. He put his hand back in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it roughly over. "Here," he said, his voice rough and strained. Meilin took the paper, unfolding it with gentle hands, her fingers skimming over the surface as she followed the words, tried to make sense of them.

When sense came, her heart leapt into her mouth, did a tango, and landed with a thump in her stomach. "Syaoran," she said, again, as if it was the only thing she could ever say, the name coming out in a strained whisper.

Syaoran just began talking, his gaze fixed on some undeterminable point in the heavens. "I can't cry, you know. I think my body wants to, but something's stopping me. It's like I can't believe it's true, but everything tells me it is. The flowers, the sky, the world. I hear her voice in my ear, saying _it's not true, it's not_, but then I turn around, because that's where it hears like it's coming from, and she's not there. And I know crying is what you're supposed to do, and I feel callous for not being able to grieve. Maybe it's because my heart refuses to believe that she's gone. I know it. I don't know if my body or heart have accepted it, though. And it-" His hands formed tight fists, so tight his skin turned white, then red, then grey until he released them. "It hurts. I can't breathe, can't concentrate, can't sleep, and I just-"

He fell silent, and looked at her again. Pain and anguish and suffering played across the surface of his skin in a mottled pattern of restricted emotions like a doomed rainbow.

Meilin handed the paper back unsteadily. Her legs felt like jelly beneath her. She opened her mouth to say something, _anything_, and found herself at an astounding lack of words. "D-dead?" she whispered.

Syaoran just nodded, turned and stalked away.

Meilin just let him go.

-----

"It's not that I don't trust him, Tomoyo," Sakura protested, flipping through the discount rack at _Warehouse_. "I do! It's just, I don't know, I have one of those feelings. _You_ know. Like something bad is about to happen."

"You've never had a boyfriend before," Tomoyo advised calmly. "And you've never had one not write back from a letter he must have received a week ago. It's natural for boys to procrastinate when they have to write a letter. I mean, come _on_. You know how Eriol gets."

Sakura inclined her head to one side in agreement. "I guess. Although I hope Syaoran is not as bad as that last letter from him! Six months late, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Tomoyo said. "Along with an out-of-date wedding invitation!"

Sakura giggled, checking the label of a pretty pink jersey skirt. "I still can't imagine it, him marrying Mitsuko-sensei," she said, shaking her head in wonder.

"I wonder if he let himself grow up," Tomoyo mused. "He never said in the letter, but he did mention when he was here that he never let himself grow up, so he would be the right age to help you transform the cards."

"True." Sakura held the skirt up against herself. "Yes? No?"

"For 80¥?"

"No, it was that, but in the sale it's 60¥."

"Go for it."

Sakura put the skirt in her basket. "I guess if we wrote and asked him if we did, we could find out."

"Yeah," Tomoyo joked. "In a year's time!"

The two girls laughed, and high-fived.

The smile on Sakura's face faded slightly as a slightly vacant look flickered across her face like a page turned in a book. "Do- do you think he-"

Tomoyo didn't even have to force Sakura to finish the question. She put one hand firmly on Sakura's shoulder and faced her best friend square on. "He'd be a fool not to," Tomoyo said strongly. "Besides, he fell in love with you a long time ago, Sakura. Things like that don't fall apart overnight. Or over a week. Or even over a lifetime."

Sakura's smile crept back. "You think so?"

"Positive!" A predatorial glint came on Tomoyo's face. "You want to pay for that, and we can go to the café and stuff ourselves silly with highly-caffeinated drinks and too-sugary desserts?"

Sakura laughed. "You bet! Lead the way!"

-----

His muscled ached to the point of exhaustion.

He'd walked for _elements_ _knew _how long, along paths he'd explored once as a child with Meilin, through woodland that they'd once pretended was filled with ghosts and now for Syaoran was filled with only one. He had spent the time amongst the trees convinced that if he went that little bit farther, those small flashes of colour he'd seen from behind the trunks would be _her_. 

He'd wandered past the brook Meilin had told him was guarded by Old Father Time and his water nymph daughter Oblivious. She said that the legend was if you stood over it with a friend and held hands, you'd be friends forever. Being friends was important in a marriage, she'd said, all those years ago, when their marriage was a certainty and there was no blot but Syaoran's own discomfort on the horizon.

Syaoran stumbled upstairs to his room, dusk casting eerie shadows around the large house. He'd sneaked in the back entrance, not wanting to bump into his mother. Yelan had been awfully... _there_... over the last few days. She didn't normally involve herself this much in his life, why was she trying to bother now??

He knew the answer. She was bothering him because that's who she was. She was bothering him because that's what any mother would do. She was bothering him because Syaoran was not himself.

But how could he be, when the biggest part of him had died alongside Sakura?

Closing the door behind him with a quiet _snap!, _Syaoran literally collapsed on his bed in exhaustion. For the last few days he'd tried to exercise himself to the point of complete physical fatigue, but it still didn't help him sleep. He stared upwards, watching the shadows dance across the ceiling like string-free marionettes, elongated and twisted to the stuff of nightmares.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep, Syaoran stretched over and pulled the chord for the light. A warm amber light flooded the room, banishing the dancing shadows outside. He breathed in and breathed out, almost having to force the normally involuntary actions to work. He watched his chest rise up and down with his breaths, and felt the ache of his heart alongside the ache in his body. Up. Down. Up. Down. Syaoran kept looking in that direction, until a flash of pink caught his eye.

Sitting upright with a sudden force that made his aching body scream at him to _STOP!_, Syaoran was almost convinced that it was a petal of cherry blossom, a petal of _Sakura_, until he looked closer. It was just a corner of an envelope, the same colour as the ones...

He felt his heart constrict.

The _same colour as the ones Sakura sent him_.

Frantic, he forced himself off the bed, his muscles screaming abuse at him. He reached his desk and stared at the envelopes in sheer consternation. Eventually he remembered. This had been the rest of his post. His fingers shivering slightly, Syaoran reached for the pile, and then pulled them back. The unopened post just lay there, daring him to do something about it. The sight awakened something primordial within him, something primitive. Something that made him want to run and hide under the cover, safe, until it all went away. Post had brought him that news about Sakura. He never wanted to open another letter again.

He let his fears get the better of him, and with an anguished and startled cry leapt for the safety of his bed, pulling the quilt over his head, hiding his quaking body. Eventually he let the soft material drop, and with a resisting body climbed out, went to the pile of envelopes so thoughtfully sorted by Wei. With still-shivering fingers, Syaoran pulled out the pink envelope, Sakura's scrawled handwriting decorating the front. Quickly, as if it could hurt him, he pushed the others into the large wooden box on his desk and slammed the lid down, and walked back to his bed, his own heartbeats echoing painfully in his ears.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Syaoran sat on the edge of the bed, his whole hand trembling now. He turned the envelope over to be confronted by a quick doodle of a smiling face drawn over the seal. He heard a stifled gasp of laughter, and was surprised to find out it was from himself. Forcing his fingers to stop quivering, he gently opened the envelope, breaking the smiling face in two.

The smell hit him first. He lifted the envelope to his nose and inhaled the fragrance, vanilla and fresh cherry blossoms. _Spring_. Closing his eyes, he could almost see her, laughing, smiling, happy. He could hear her voice, her sweet voice. "_I love you, Syaoran. You're my number one_."

He put the envelope in his lap and took out the letter, and slowly read the contents. The date pronounced it written the day before her death. "_Dearest Syaoran... Tomoyo and I are having our weekly shopping trip tomorrow... It's therapy!... There's this café, I know you'd love it, does the best chocolate croissants... Tomoeda is so pretty in the spring... Wish you were here, it's so strange not having you behind me in school when I turn around!... Much love, Sakura xx. _^_^" It ran on for three sides, and Syaoran let the words wash over him like a gentle caress. 

Something inside him crashed, like someone slamming their hands on a piano and playing a thunderous minor chord. Something wet dropped onto the envelope, and he quickly put the letter and envelope to one side to keep them dry. Syaoran lifted one hand to his face, and pulled his fingers back wet. He stared wonderingly at the tears on his hand for a long second, and let the rest of the tears come.

-----

The best sitting room, with its mahogany panelling and ceiling-high bookcases, didn't normally have a soporific effect on Meilin. Maybe it was the combination of worry about Syaoran, or the flickering firelight. Whatever it was, she woke up in a semi-confused daze. The fire had burned out, a long time ago, and someone had covered her with a blanket.

Blinking furiously, Meilin remembered she'd come in here to do some recreational reading, and must have fallen asleep. She'd only awoken because of the sound of the weather. Rain fell like sheet glass from the sky, a sky covered in a thick blue-grey blanket of its own, as heavy and foreboding as smoke. Sleepily, Meilin rubbed her eyes, and put aside the Chinese translation of S. Morgenstern's "_Buttercup's Baby_". Crossing the room, the deep pile soft beneath her bare feet, Meilin stopped at the large windows that overlooked the Li shrine to the ancestors.

Her breath hitched suddenly.

Someone was _out_ there! In _this _weather!

Her chest tight, Meilin grabbed onto the rail by the window. A figure was definitely there, but she couldn't tell who it was from where she was. A few dots of lights filtered through the stormy void between her and the shrine. _Candles_, she thought vaguely. _And moving_.

She watched the lights, figuring out there was a definite deliberateness of the moving lights. They were moving faster now, spinning, making out the shapes of words. _Death, _spoke the lights. _Sorrow. Hope. _

It was someone mourning.

Lightning abruptly illuminated the garden, and Meilin saw the mourner's face, wet with mingled rain and tears. She bowed her head, feeling tears well up again for the fiftieth time that day, and joined Syaoran in his grief.

-----

**To be continued in Chapter 3: The plan...**


	4. Chapter 3: The Plan

**~~Morning True~~**

On April Fool's Day, Yamazaki and Chiharu send a fake newsletter depicting the death of their head cheerleader, Sakura. Syaoran, reading it in H.K., believes it... and changes. S+S

A Card Captor Sakura S+S fic by _Melissa Ordesky_.

CCS does not belong to me in the slightest, and neither does "The Princess Bride" or S. Morgenstern. These latter two belong to the hyperactive imagination of William Goldman, the man who single-handedly started my dentist phobia.

**A BIG!!!!!!! thank you to (bold means the reviewer has reviewed more than once), you guys are keeping me going! ^_^:**

**wo-ai-ni-kai-hiwatari**, kawaii-syaoran713, **Avelyn Lauren, lil-cb, **EdgeOfChaos, GodsGirl7, Claire (x7, hehe), Hououza, **Stephanie, **and lifes_mysteries18 (I agree, I suck at summaries...).

~~~~

**Chapter 3: The Plan**

**(**October 12th, 1999. 12:31 pm.**)**

Syaoran tried to pretend he was horribly fascinated by the Japanese magazine in his hand, _Shonen Weekly, _as he wondered vaguely why he'd bought it. Flicking idly through the pages, he made sure he didn't look up.

Because hell broke loose if he did.

For example, let's take a little trip back to yesterday.

-----

_....flashback alert....flashback alert....flashback alert....flashback alert....flashback alert...._

Everyone, when a student, is pretty sure at some point in their lives that school is a version of hell, if not the actual genuine location. Something four people in Xianghua High School are destined to find out is that when you return as a teacher, a towering adult with the powers of supposed infinite wisdom, it damn sure sucks just as well.

One of these people who is going to be a teacher is planning on it. It's so nice when dreams come true, ne? Look at her, sat now in the library, blonde hair pulled back, glasses perched precariously on the end of her nose. She hates Xianghua for the teasing she receives, and in the future she will suffer a nervous breakdown twenty years into her teaching career, as a result of the teasing from her students.

Let's move on from her. This story is sad enough without more pain.

Come and look over here. The second future-teacher is on the basketball court, a PE teacher this time. His name is Kan Shen. He is six foot tall even though he is only sixteen, muscular, hair as black as midnight, eyes as blue as the sea. He is currently being admired by a whole bleacher full of other students. What is not to admire? Watch him. Watch his well-toned body flash in the sunlight as he slams another ball home. Watch the smile flash onto his face, genuine and warm. This is one of the memories that will remain fond amongst all the watchers on the bleachers, especially for Fun Kei, one of the cheerleaders.

Look carefully at Fun Kei, if you can tear your gaze away from the lithe and agile creature Shen. She is one of the few cheerleaders watching the practice. The others are on the lawn, observing another fair individual. Kei looks very well presented on the surface, long glossy violet hair, large brown eyes, but if you glance by her elbow there's a small smudge of charcoal, a tiny drop of paint. She wants to be an art teacher. She will have her wish granted, and will study at a Japanese university in Kyoto. Watch as her brown-eyed gaze moves over to the sunlit lawn where most of her friends and co-cheerleaders lounge, trying to get the attention of future teacher number four.

Number four doesn't quite know he wants to be a teacher yet. He knows that he sees Maths in a very unique way, in a way that he can explain complex issues so that they sound so easy, but doesn't know that his aptitude at this subject will be transferred in the future to being a teacher. At the moment, he knows he wants to study Maths at university, but apart from that, his future is unclear.

Future teacher number four used to be quite certain of one part of his future. He'd already picked the girl he wanted to marry, and was quite certain she was the one. Now he was quite certain he would never love again. Like in the words of S. Morgenstern, a writer his cousin admires a lot, his heart was now a secret garden and the walls were very high.

He is looking at a history book, but if you look closely, he is not reading it. His eyes, a weird colour, like maple syrup, a bright amber, are not travelling up and down the page. The only movement is his hand, which moves occasionally to push his hair out from his eyes. This only serves to mess up his oak-coloured hair further, but you get the impression that this does not faze him at all. He sighs. Sadness is present in his life almost tangibly, like you could taste it in the air around him.

He does not notice us looking at him, but he notices the lawn full of girls smiling coquettishly in his direction, calling his name. "_Li Syaoran! Li-kun! Syaoran!!_" He is ignoring them the best he can, hiding behind the walls of his secret garden. He makes the mistake of looking up. A ripple of murmurs come from the girls. "_He looked at me!!! He looked at ME!"_ "_No, you moron, Li-kun looked at _me!_"_

Then it as if that single glance upwards gave them permission to come over. Look as several of the girls get up, heading in Li Syaoran's direction like a group of predators. Syaoran knows the drill, it happens every day. He grabs his book and bag, and legs it in the direction of the toilets.

Watch him as he hides behind the wall, looking at the girls in horror, wondering why they won't leave him alone. Then watch as fear flits across his face. He is obviously not making his pain obvious enough to them. If they knew how much he hurts, they wouldn't be so nasty, would they?

The dilemma is plain on his face as he hides there, a coward in the shadows. He will stop being a coward in just under eighty days, the time it took for Phileus Fogg to go right around the world. 

There's no way that Li Syaoran could know this.

His voice devoid now of all emotion, our fourth candidate hears the bell and walks into his next lesson, Maths. He takes his seat, ignores the flirtatious whispers and "accidental" touches from some of the more forward girls. He stares forwards, and empties his mind of all but maths. This is how he has been surviving for the last seven months.

An actual teacher now walks in. This is Wu Lan. He is thirty four, and like Syaoran, at Syaoran's age, didn't know he wanted to be a maths teacher. This, and their gender, is where all resemblances end. Lan teaches in a stilted way, his paranoia that the students will not respect him because he is so short affecting his teaching. He starts the lesson, on projectiles from inclined planes, and looks around his students to pick on someone to answer a question. He has not had this class very long, and, having not suffered the grief that Syaoran has, does not recognise the expression of grief on Syaoran's face.

He assumes that Syaoran has not been listening, and gives Syaoran a hard question to answer. Syaoran gives the answer immediately, clipped and precise, completely correct. Lan almost reels physically backwards from this. Syaoran's face is turned politely towards him, but his eyes are somewhere else. Wu Lan does not disturb Syaoran again for the rest of the lesson, subtly affected by the teenager. Lan will feel unsettled for the rest of the day. He will not know why, but he will realise he witnessed something in Syaoran's eyes that should not exist in such a young man's eyes.

...._end of flashback..._

-----

Not wanting the girls to lynch him like they always did if he dared look up off the page, Syaoran decided to investigate instead what had drawn him to the magazine. That it was Japanese was probably part of the issue, Syaoran decided. He still steadfastly kept up his Japanese studies, even though he was fluent in it, and didn't want to examine too closely why he did that. He'd probably spend the rest of his life in China as it was, but employees did look kindly on polyglots.

Methodically turning the pages now, Syaoran looked at the main feature of the magazine, a new story from CLAMP. _Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle_. A lump rose in his throat at the image of the princess. Even though it was in black and white, Syaoran coloured her in his mind. Auburn hair that shimmered in the sunlight. Bright green eyes, the colour of grass and fresh air and spring. Hands trembling, he looked at the cover of the magazine. _Issue #25_. On the cover was the princess from the story, coloured as Syaoran had imagined, being held by a boy with hair the colour of chocolate, eyes the colour of warm honey. Even though the figures were absurdly slender, and the links tenuous, it could have so easily looked like him (if maybe he'd turned into one of the _Digimon_ goggle boys) and...

'_Sakura.'_

Unaware he had spoken her name out loud, he let his fingers drift over the admittedly wonderfully drawn cover. He was seeing resemblances everywhere that weren't even there. Forcing this idea into his head, he looked back at the cover. The resemblance in his mind dissipated, leaving Syaoran glancing at the image now in a queer mix of self-humiliation, that he could think it looked like him and Sakura, and jealousy, that these two characters - that could have so easily been them in an alternate universe - could have what he couldn't.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't _fair_.

And this he'd decided even before he'd returned home and found what was waiting for him.

-----

Yelan lay back on the high-backed chair in the best sitting room, after placing one of the volumes of Florinese literature that her niece was so fond of on the floor. She closed her eyes, letting the silence wash over her like waves from the ocean.

A small sigh escaped her lips. It had been a very long meeting with the rest of the clan elders. They'd noticed Syaoran's sullenness and unwillingness to acknowledge the world the same as she had. Her gentle attempts to snap him out of it had failed, and so she had had to go to the elders to request assistance.

They'd agreed with her, that it would not do for the future clan leader to be so apathetic. If he could not raise concern for his everyday life, how could he raise concern for his whole family?

Drastic action was needed.

Yelan had pleaded for lenience, and was given until the new millennium. If Syaoran did not choose his own bride before then, the clan would choose one for him, no backing out possible this time. He was nearly eighteen. He would marry at the age of eighteen, as was tradition for the clan.

Coming from the clan elders, this was lenience, of a sort.

She sighed heavily this time, wondering how to tell him. It was supposed to be for motivating Syaoran, even if it was just motivating him in the direction of looking at girls and maybe asking a couple out. It gave him a slim chance of being able to marry for love. Very slim, but there. She hoped it would be enough.

A sound of someone entering the library caught her attention. It was Meilin. "Feimei told me what the clan elders decided," Meilin said, without saying hello.

Yelan looked at her sadly, her sadness mirrored almost instantly on Meilin's young face. "Would you please send him here to me?"

Meilin nodded, bowed and left the room. A minute later, Syaoran entered, his cheeks slightly red. A surge of hope raised within Yelan, until she realised it had been because he'd washed his face before coming into see her. Despair sunk like a heavy weight within her again.

"Syaoran." She rose to her feet as Syaoran bowed low. "You know the traditions and lores of our clan. Your eighteenth birthday comes within this last scholastic year, and you know what must come with this."

Syaoran nodded tersely.

"The clan elders have given you until the new millennium to choose a bride of your own. If you have not chosen by then, you will marry whomever they decide. Do you understand? There is to be no breaking of this contract."

Yelan's heart broke as Syaoran nodded again, emotionless, his eyes flat and somewhere else.

"I will do as my clan commands, ma'am," Syaoran said, his voice barely above a whisper. "May I be dismissed?"

Yelan felt tears rise up to her face and she forced them not to fall. Her throat felt tight as she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Syaoran bowed again, and left. She sank into the chair, feeling the tears fall now, and watched her hands shake. _I am sorry, Syaoran, _she thought, willing the thoughts to cross to her only son. Her slender frame shook, and she burrowed her face in her hands and let herself cry, feeling completely useless. What had happened to her son to turn him into such a zombie? And why hadn't she been able to stop it?

Her tears stopped, but the shaking continued as Yelan grieved the loss of her son.

-----

Syaoran found it surprisingly easy to agree to what his clan had decided. He didn't care who he married now. Whomever it was, it would never be for love, it would be to keep his family happy. The elements knew they were worth so much more than him.

He kept his head upright as he walked down the hallway, heading for the hallway and the steps that lead up to his room. A high pitched ringing sound filled the air, and a soft female voice said: "Hello, this is the Li residence... Yes... I will see if he is in..."

Syaoran recognised the voice as his sister Feimei, and turned the corner to see her clutching her hand over the end of the receiver. "_SYAAAAAAAAAORAN! PHONE FOR YOU!_"

He flinched as she saw him. He'd renounced answering any form of communication nearly thirty weeks ago, and was not going to start now. Feimei held the phone out as if to give it to him. Syaoran shook his head furiously, and before Feimei could stop him he ran, pelting upstairs two stairs at a time, hiding in his room.

"I- I'm sorry," Feimei said, looking worriedly up at the stairs where Syaoran had so abruptly run. She felt a wave of pity. He must have just found out the clan's decision. 

"Syaoran's not in," she lied. "I'm sorry, Kinomoto-chan. I'll tell him you called."

"_Thank you very much_," the girl on the other end of the line responded.

Feimei continued to stare up the stairs in worry, and eventually turned to leave, forgetting her promise to tell Syaoran that Sakura had called.

----- 

**To be continued in Chapter 4: The Pain...**


End file.
